“Of course we will.”
“I’m going to get these drinks before I start blubbering like a baby.” Marco swiped tears away. “And screw the orange juice.”
* * *
That evening, Breen took her laptop to her room. She could work while giving Marco and Brian—if and when he came—some privacy. And she could work on her second Bollocks book, something happy to help her hold on to all the good feelings of the day.
Maybe Keegan would come. She’d feel steadier if she saw him, if she heard directly from him. In her talks with Marg she understood they had doubts now the portal existed. Days of searching had given them no sign or sense of it.
Or a tree of snakes.
She didn’t know what that meant, only that the phrase had come so clearly, so definitely, it had to mean something.
Unless it didn’t.
She’d tried seeing in the fire, tried seeing in the globe, but nothing came.
Unrelenting rain in the east made the search more difficult, and no doubt slowed it. But Marg had told her the rain had moved out to sea that evening, and the next day promised clear.
She wondered if she should go to the Capital, if she could help. And wondered if waiting to be asked—or ordered—was weakness or strength.
Either way, she’d go to Talamh the next day, and practice in her grandmother’s workshop. She’d ask Morena or Harken to help her with her training.
And prepare herself for whatever came.
But now she’d write, and she’d wait.
She wrote until late, until the house fell silent and sleeping. Then she threw on a robe, pulled on boots to take Bollocks out for his last round of the night while the pixies fluttered their points of light in the dark.
With Bollocks settled in front of the fire, she settled herself into bed. She’d work on his book more in the morning, but go to Talamh earlier than usual. She’d take a ride with Marco—stop by Finola’s to talk wedding plans—and she’d call Lonrach to give them both the pleasure of a flight. She’d work on her training—both magickal and physical.
She would fill the day, but if nothing changed, she’d ask Harken to let her use Keegan’s mirror. He’d just have to find time to talk with her, and accept she needed to go to the Capital and help with the search.
“Tree of snakes,” she muttered as she turned off the light. Why would she know it if it meant nothing?
Maybe in the workshop, with her grandmother’s magicks all around, she’d find the answers.
Tomorrow, she thought, and drifted into sleep.
* * *
When the dream came, it came soft and lovely with a sky of heartbreaking blue. Through the field a stream burbled, and along its banks grew the violet paws of foxglove, the elegant trumpets of columbine, the starry flowers of wild thyme. Butterflies fluttered, birds sang as she walked with Keegan.
“It’s all so beautiful.”
“Peace.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “There’s nothing more beautiful. We’ll have it, and thousands times thousands of days like this.”
“I’m glad you came. I missed seeing you, talking to you. Did you find the portal?”
“We won’t talk of such things now. We have this. We have the quiet. We both like the quiet moments.”
“We do. I guess that’s something we have in common.” She smiled when he bent down and picked a buttercup to tuck behind her ear. “You don’t get many of them, the quiet moments.”
“I could have more if I abjured the staff, if I sent the sword back into the lake.”
“You wouldn’t. Couldn’t.”
“Would you have me fight every day of my life, suffer the weight of passing judgment on others?” He turned her toward him. “Or would you have me be with you? Go to your world with you and make it mine?”
“You can’t—”
He drew her in. “Can you tell me you don’t wish me to choose you over all else? As no one has before? Even your father, in the end, chose Talamh. Chose the sword, its power.”
“Duty, not power,” she began, but he laid his lips on hers. She felt dizzy from the kiss.
“He could have passed the duties to another and stayed with you.” Eyes on hers, he brought her hand to his lips, pressed them to her palm. “You weren’t enough for him.”
“That’s not true. Keegan—”
“I would choose you over Talamh.” He pressed his lips to her wrist, had her pulse pounding. To her throat, so the beat doubled. “Ask me.”